Chapter 1

Red ‘Doc’ Winters let out a mighty frustrated growl. “If that’s all ya got, sugar pie, I ain’t never gonna get hard! You’re just a pitiful sight, ain’t ya?” He jerked the nekkid gal’s noggin’ up by the hair to give her another looksee. Her big ol’ baby blues starin’ up at him from ‘twixt his furry sticks as he sat all comfy in his chair. “You Daisy May or Daisy Lou? I declare, I cain’t tell you gurls apart,” he snorted, squintin’ at her through his half-closed peepers.

“Them’s mah older sisters, I’s Daisy Bell. Ah’m right sorry, Doc, but Ah ain’t never sucked no cock afore.”

“Son bitch! I tol your maw-maw ta make sure you practiced on your paw-paw or bruders! You’re a-wasting my time!” Red Winters barked. His mood was writ clear as day on his leathery, tanned face. “I hain’t got time ta teach you ta suck cock? No wonder you’re still a virgin at and hain’t got a man yet!”

Daisy Bell felt a flood of shameness come over her at the thought of bein’ an ‘old maid’. Her maw-maw and paw-paw sent her to see Doc Winters to ‘see to’ her shamin’ state of not knowin’ what all the other girls knowed. In Beaver Valley, gals was hitched up at the tender age of sixteen in marriages set by their folks. Bein’ as homely as she was and still pure well past her sixteenth birthday, well, that was a right sad blot on the family name. Doc’s words hit her like a sting from a freshly pulled nettle.

Doc Winters weren’t naught but a sight, what with his big ol’ belly a-stickin’ out an’ his beard greasy as a pig’s tail, but he was held in high esteem down in the holler ‘cuz of his doctorin’ ways, his know-how ‘bout the wild mountain plants, an’ most importantly, that long thick piece of man-meat he had twixt his bowlegs, all covered in curly red bush.

Red’s face got redder than the dirt in the holler. He was fit to be tied. “Your maw-maw’s gonna pay for this, I swear!” His voice was rising like mist of the crick. “Shoulda taught you your place ‘round here years ago!” He grabbed his limp dick with a rough hand. “Open up, now, or I’ll tell your paw-paw you ain’t no good! You’ll be Old Man Kettle’s problem faster’n you can say ‘snapshot’!” Claude he got a nasty streak a mile wide, but he liked his women young. He gon through ‘em like they was berries in season. “Prove to me you got some use, girl!”

“Yessir,” squealed Daisy Bell, all flustered like a chicken in a fox’s sight. She weren’t keen on bein’ Old Man Kettle’s property. She’d seen his cast-off wimmin afore, all haggard and their sparks snuffed out. Didn’t want no part o’ that for herself. So, she set her sights on Doc Winters’ pecker. It hung there like a dead snake on a stick. She had to liven it up somehow, so he’d pop her cherry and she could hitch with someone not so spine-chillin’.

Doc’s limp pecker layed ‘gainst his leg. He had the biggest one ‘round these Appalachian hills. Hit were a custom fer a young’un gal t’ come see him. A right o’ passage, ya might say. An’ if’n she was lucky, she’d get herself knocked up. All them red-haired young’uns in Beaver Hollow were Doc’s. Th’ thought o’ lettin’ her maw an’ paw down nigh brung her to tears. She didn’t aim to be the first ‘Daisy’ t’ come up short. Red’s peepers squinted. “Ah’m waitin’,” he growled, rakin’ at his furry nuts. “But make it snappy or Ah’ll let on you couldn’t take “Big Red”. That ain’t no shame you wanna bear, Daisy Bell. Specially not with a mug like yours! And don’t you go thinkin’ ‘bout clampin’ down on me with them buck teeth of yours, ya hear?”

Daisy knew she weren’t purty, she was outright ugly. Her teeth was too big fer her mouth and had a space ‘twixt the two biggest’uns. But she had big ol’ tits, a skinny body, and an ass that stuck out like a shelf. That hadta count fer somethin’. With a firm nod, she nervously wrapped her soft, unlearned lips ‘round the head of his pecker like Maw dondid to Paw.

Her peepers got all wet as she took his squishy pecker back into her mouth. She did her darndest to overlook the stinky flavor of Emma Jean’s cooter. Turns out, Doc had been banging on Emma Jean when she first come ‘round to his shack. That poor gal, Emma, she wanted a little ‘un so bad, and her ol’ man weren’t up to the task, so she come lookin’ for Doc’s special brand of baby-makin’ elixir.

Daisy perched on a chair whilst they done the ol’ in-out dance. She’d peeped her maw-maw and paw-paw at it, and even maw-maw with her bruders, but Doc were a whole ‘nother critter. It looked like it’d smart a bit. Emma Jean laid out on the kitchen table like a Thanksgiving Day spread, legs wider than the Mississippi. When Doc finished his business and planted his elixir in her, he held her legs high as a kite, so’s not to lose none of it. Then he give her a good smack on the ol’ behind and told her to hightail it home and come back in seven days.